Gregor and the Toll of Insanity
by AuthorThatNeverWas
Summary: When Gregor finally breaks under the pressure, his loved ones will have to test their own limits to help him. I will be looking in the Reviews for where I should go with this story.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own neither the Underland Chronicles, nor any miscellaneous tidbits or references I may use in this piece.**

**Any and all feedback is appreciated.**

**All proceeds go to no one, because there aren't any.**

**Part One**

**The Drug**

**Chapter**

**1**

Gregor's palm covered his left eye as he rested his head on his hand. The constant droning of his teacher was obliterated as yet another wave of anxiety crashed over him. It was a sensation that had become even more familiar to him than his rager side. He fought back the urge to snap the pencil he held in half.

Two years. It had already been two years since his final ascent from the Underland. In all that time, he had never been able to reconcile the things that had been done to him… or the things he did.

He peered up at the white board. The words swam around in his head. He had no idea what they were covering in this class. As a matter of fact, he could not even recall what class he was _in._

"Focus, Gregor," he thought to himself. "Who is the teacher?" He shifted his gaze from the unintelligible writing to the man who put it there. An old, crusty-looking guy from way down south. History.

All of a sudden, the words on the board snapped into focus. Names, dates, places… wars.

Something nagged at the back of Gregor's mind. He knew what it was, but did not let it cross his consciousness. The last thing he needed was to breakdown in the middle of class again.

As soon as the lesson ended, Gregor made his way to the cafeteria. From day one, an odd sort of pecking order had established itself at his high school in Virginia. Gregor had decided not to hide the scars that riddled his body. He had also chosen not to explain them. This had earned Gregor distrust and even animosity among the students here, which was fine with him. He figured the more distance between him and other people, the less chance anyone would get hurt.

This, however did not stop terrible things from happening. During the second week of classes, when he had witnessed some 'freshman hazing,' the upperclassmen in question wound up with some very painful bruises. This had been one of the most dangerous things that Gregor did, because he had been on the verge of simply killing them. Luckily, just as the brawl began, a faculty member had come by, bringing Gregor back to his senses. This was the first time he had ever been suspended.

As it was, Gregor sat alone at lunch every day, mechanically eating the ilk that was his food. He would occasionally receive a hateful look or even a saucy comment from one of his school-mates. These he simply ignored. In fact, they did not even register with Gregor. He had learned to keep all of his emotions in check. Except his sadness.

After lunch, Gregor made his way to Biology. This class was led by a crazy lady who loved to "surprise" her students with pop quizzes and things like that. Today, however, she sprung something on them that sent Gregor's mind reeling.

The moment Gregor set foot in the class, the unmistakable scent of formaldehyde assaulted his nostrils. A slightly sick feeling came over him, but he decided to plow on with his day and get it all over with.

"All right, kids," the crazy lady began, "today I have a special treat for you! To start our study of mammal physiology, we'll be doing a dissection. So, if you'll make your way to the lab and don your goggles, we can begin."

A hand shot up.

"Yes, Abigail?"

"What will we be dissecting?" the girl asked.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise!" the lady replied.

"Of course you wouldn't…" Gregor thought.

He pushed himself out of his chair and made his way to the back of the room, where the door to the lab was located.

He made it there before everyone else, since he sat at the back of the class. He opened the door, and what awaited him inside was a number of trays with bat carcasses in them.

Gregor froze, his eyes wide, darting back and forth between the little masses of fur and chemicals. An image of blood crossed his sight, mingling in the center of a large plateau. His hand felt numb from the claw he had clenched in it so long ago. His resolve was breaking, and he did not know whether to scream or vomit. His mouth even opened, prepared to issue either.

In the end, neither happened. He simply fell to his knees as his senses were barraged with memories he wished he never had. He had finally snapped. It took two years of pent up fear and sorrow, but it had finally happened.

That sight, those bats laid out in their trays, was the last thing he remembered that day.

Everything went black.

Black like him…

Black like…

Ares.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own neither the Underland Chronicles, nor any miscellaneous tidbits or references I may use in this piece.**

**Any and all feedback is appreciated.**

**All proceeds go to no one, because there aren't any.**

**Chapter**

**2**

"It is time to wake up, Gregor."

The voice was so familiar. So warm and loving. Something in it sent a stab of depression through Gregor's being. His eyes slid open, and what he saw astounded him.

He was riding on a golden bat through a dark cave with a strikingly white girl. Her piercing purple gaze seemed to burrow through his soul, cutting his heart on the way.

It was her; the one person Gregor most wanted to see. The one person who could make it all better with her mere presence. Luxa.

Gregor's eyes brimmed with tears, but not of joy. These were tears of agony.

"Why?" Gregor growled, fists clenching in anger. "Why are you doing this to me?" He spoke to no one but himself.

"Gregor, what is wrong?" Her eyes narrowed with concern. Her fingers brushed his, and he actually felt the warmth.

"Get out of my head," Gregor said softly. He could not bear this torment. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

He swept his arm across her face, dispersing the illusion. His senses went wild, flashing lights, ringing noises, noxious smells. Finally, everything settled down and his vision cleared to the reveal the ceiling of a hospital room.

"Wha-," he began.

"Gregor!" A small girl landed on him, the embrace sending a wave of pain through his aching body.

"Lizzie?" he said. The girl pulled back and nodded. It was her. A painfully thin ten year old girl whose eyes, among other things, betrayed her meekness.

Gregor looked past his little sister to see the rest of his family. His mother, smiling and stroking the big purple scar that still hadn't gone away. His dad, who was staring at him intensely, presumably ready to call the nurse should his condition worsen. And Boots. His baby sister still looked uncertain, but managed a little grin.

"You okay now, Gregor?" she inquired.

He faked a lively expression, solely for his family's sake. "Yeah. I'm a lot better with you guys here," he lied.

"Come on, Liz," his dad said, "give him some space." Lizzie hopped off the bed and sidled back, not breaking her gaze from her big brother.

"Oh, my baby," his mother stepped forward as if she couldn't contain herself any longer and grabbed his hand.

"Hey, mom."

"Hey." She gave him a reassuring smile.

"So, what happened?" Gregor asked. He was itching to know exactly what had happened back there.

She exchanged nervous glances with his dad. "Gregor," she said. "The doctor… well, he… he said that…"

"Mom!" Gregor snapped. "Just tell me!"

She stared at him, somewhat stunned. "He said you had a nervous breakdown, but sweetie, this one was different."

Gregor looked at her with apprehension. "In what way?" He had had a few breakdowns before now. Mostly just a couple minutes of him blankly glaring at a spot on the wall, reliving the horrors of what had happened.

"He said," his dad began, "that he's only ever seen this kind of thing in veterans."

Gregor let that revelation sink in. A bitter taste filled his mouth. Then, not knowing how to express his emotions, he scoffed. "Pretty fitting, isn't it?"

His dad shot his mom a look, and she nodded. "Girls, how about we go get something to eat? Give Gregor a moment of peace."

She took his sisters' hands and began guiding them out of the room. Gregor heard Boots say "is daddy coming?"

"No, baby. He's gonna talk with Gregor," his mom replied.

The two sat in silence, Gregor staring down at his covers and his father watching him tentatively.

"Hey, kiddo," he said. "I know what you're feeling. I know that it hurts. Worst of all, it never gets any better. But I've learned that, with people to lean on, you can find the strength to get past it all. Learn to live with the hurt, confide in the people you love, things like that."

Every word made Gregor sicker and sicker. Sick of all the asinine emotions that rolled through his stomach, leaving essentially nothing behind. He wished he could make it all go away. Everything he saw reminded Gregor of the Underland. The clock on the wall, like the one he gave to Mrs. Cormaci. The glass of the window, like the windows of the palace hospital. And worst of all, his dad. The first time he fell, he had rescued his dad, witnessing horrible acts of betrayal and murder in the process.

Gregor caught himself wondering if his dad had been worth the trouble he caused. The instant after that, he panicked. What were those thoughts doing in his head? How could he possibly think his dad was worthless? Why would-

The hospital door opened, and Gregor's heart skipped a beat. He jumped, body seizing for a split second. A flash of fear crossed his dad's countenance. It was only the nurse.

"I came to check up on you. Oh, you're awake! Do either of you need anything?" she asked. The two shook their heads.

It was not until she had done her routine checks and left that Gregor noticed the catheter, as well as the saline drip, that was hooked up to him.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked.

"About four days," his dad said slowly.

Four days! How had that happened? "So," Gregor said calmly, "I was in a coma? Why? Was it all because of my breakdown?"

"That's what the doctor thinks. He said you'll probably need an antidepressant…" his dad said.

Gregor scowled. "Of all the stupid…" he started, but was interrupted by his father's hand on his shoulder. Gregor felt his body tense at the contact. He had the urge to draw the sword that was not there.

"You need to keep calm, Gregor. Now's not the time to fight. You know that."

The words only served to exacerbate Gregor's unease.

There was a long period of silence before his dad spoke up. "Your mother and I have been talking, but we wanted to ask you first." Gregor looked up at him. "Do you think… if you were to go back down there for a few days…" Gregor's eyes narrowed.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, "and no. It wouldn't help. Not unless you're willing to either come down there with me and stay, or just leave me forever. I could never leave twice. We both know that." A memory sparked to life in Gregor's head. Hamnet. Hadn't he said something similar to Luxa in the jungle?

A fresh wave of anxiety washed over him.

"So…" he began, "PTSD, huh?"

His dad's expression became pained. It was clear he did not want to reply – to confirm the fear that Gregor harbored – but he forced himself. "Yeah. But, Gregor, we can get through this. You know that."

The trouble was, he didn't. Gregor thought about all of the hurt that was already in his chest. He had found no good way to relieve that pressure, and it just kept building. He realized that it would be impossible to carry on like this, even with the support of his family. Maybe even _because _of his family. They were the most vivid reminders of the horror that had unfolded so far below New York.

But he could never say that outright to them. They wouldn't understand. They would freak out, at best.

The pain built further when he realized the magnitude of his family's torment. This was unbearable. He couldn't go on. He wanted it all to stop – _needed _it to stop. But how could he stop it?

A wild idea came to him from the depths of his desperation. An idea so preposterous, he rejected it out of hand. He could never leave his family like that. They would not forgive him for it.

But he _had _to do something about this. The question was, what?

An option presented itself to him that he had never considered, mostly because he did not think it was possible.

Buried beneath what seemed like miles of anxiety and fear, Gregor's rager sensation hummed quietly. With an unconscious sort of sentience, it offered him an out. A way of handling the pain so that he would never have to feel it again. Never have to feel _anything_ again.

He bathed himself in the rage, letting it wash away all other emotions, and with them, the pain. Then, when all the hurt had been flushed away, the rage subsided as well, lying dormant until Gregor needed it.

In its wake, there was… nothing.

Sweet, silent nothing.

**Well, there you go.**

**Still don't know what to do for the long haul.**

**I'll be looking for ideas in the reviews!**

**Have a good one.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own neither the Underland Chronicles, nor any miscellaneous tidbits or references I may use in this piece.**

**Any and all feedback is appreciated.**

**All proceeds go to no one, because there aren't any.**

**Chapter**

**3**

Gregor lay on his back in the shade of a tall tree. He had recently taken to this during lunch period. He would shovel down his food and just walk outside. It was better than having to deal with the noise of the cafeteria.

He studied the clouds passing by overhead. In the Underland, the clouds had been the last thing on his mind. In a way, they still were. He simply stared unfeelingly at the shifting masses of wet fluff as they drifted along at the behest of the winds.

Gregor closed his eyes, almost nodding off until he heard three boys approaching from the direction of the cafeteria. The noise of the grass being disturbed by their feet alerted him to their exact size and temperature. His echolocation was still good, at least.

He kept his eyes closed even as they stopped right next to him. There was a large one, a small one, and one somewhere in between. The in-between guy seemed to be leading the other two, almost as if they were a gang.

"What's wrong, Gregor?" the small one said sarcastically. "Why don't you go in there and join all those friends you don't have?"

The other two chuckled at this amazing insult. Gregor suppressed the urge to scoff.

"Hey, maybe we should find him a dead bat. Make him faint again!" The big one said.

"No need to be rude, man." The leader said. He returned his focus to Gregor. "We thought you looked lonely, so we decided to, y'know, _hang out_ with ya."

"That right?" Gregor asked. "Don't you have an image to maintain? Why would you three want to tarnish that by being around someone like me? We all know I'd make you look bad." He opened one eye and peered at the three as their expressions shifted. "Or are you not the village idiots you make yourselves look like?"

They were still smiling, but not as wide.

"Now that wasn't very nice, Greggy-boy." The leader knelt down, bringing his face close to Gregor's. "Why don't you say it again?"

"Gladly." Gregor launched to his feet, nearly head-butting the leader on the way up. The three flinched. "You three don't scare me. You're just a bunch of petty jackasses who don't _measure up,_" he tweaked his pinky, "so you take it out on me." Gregor lifted his arms to his side. "So go ahead. Take out your frustrations."

"You little bitch!" The big one took a swing, which Gregor easily blocked. He stepped back and kept an eye on his three opponents. They flanked him, and Gregor felt some hope. Maybe they weren't _completely _stupid.

They all came at him at once. Gregor mostly dodged and blocked the assault, but he could feel the rage welling up inside him. It was strange; this was the first emotion he had felt in two weeks.

It dawned on him: since he had used the rager side to eradicate his emotions, anger was all he _could_ feel anymore. If he were able, Gregor would have felt fear and worry.

The rage engulfed him as a kick came seriously close to his face. All he could do was watch as his limbs became instruments of torment. He hammered the three boys into submission with quick, imperceptible strikes.

Finally, someone caught him from behind and put him in a hold. Gregor almost flipped the mystery person, but the grip was strong. He could feel his rager side subsiding, and he realized that the person holding him was Mr. Langford, the track coach.

"Gregor, what the hell are you doing!?" he shouted.

Gregor could not respond, mostly because of the hold but also because the anger wasn't gone yet. When it finally disappeared, he went slack and nearly blacked out.

"Hey, hey, hey!" the coach said. "Keep it together, Gregor!"

He was half carried into the school. He could feel dozens of eyes on him, dozens of voices relaying their own stories as to what had happened outside. The trip was a blur until he heard the sharp voice of the principal in his left ear.

"Explain," she said shortly.

Gregor heard three other voices crop up immediately, accusatory tones from each. He lifted his head in time to see the principal raise her hand, silencing the three boys. He finally got a good look at the gang of misfits he had pummeled. It was bad, but not bad enough.

Gregor shook his head vigorously, trying to get rid of the murderous thoughts in his mind.

The same hand that had quieted the others came down to point at Gregor.

"You. Explain."

He had no words. Nothing to say to this person who was glaring at him venomously. He locked his eyes on his shoes and steeled his face.

She sighed and motioned for everyone else to leave. One of the delinquents looked like he wanted to protest, but a single glance from the principal stopped him up.

Once they were alone, the two simply stood there for a long while.

"What happened, Gregor?" she finally said. "I've never had so much trouble from you. What did they do?"

"Nothing," Gregor said. He had no intention of prolonging this conversation.

"Did they attack first?" she asked.

He did not reply.

"They did, didn't they?"

Nothing.

"Gregor, I can't help you if you don't pipe up! Come on, I'm just trying to-" she stopped short. "Oh, Gregor."

Her hand came up to brush a tear from his cheek. The contact made him jumped. He almost slapped her hand away. The strain had been too much for his mind. He had cried from the sheer amount of hatred.

After another moment of stillness and silence, she spoke. "You know I can't condone this, Gregor. I'm afraid I may have to expel you."

Gregor tried to feel outrage. Injustice. Fear. Anything. He could not. He simply met the principal's eyes and held her gaze. She seemed sad and uneasy. "I understand," he said.

She looked concerned, almost as if this were the last thing she expected to hear.

Gregor's mother was talking. Words were definitely being said, some less friendly than others. His father chimed in here and there, too. None of it made it to his brain. He could see Lizzie and Boots peering in at him from the living room. He could not meet their eyes.

After a long pause, he heard his mother sigh deeply. He had caused her undue stress. He should feel bad about it. Horrible, even. But he didn't.

"What will we do now?" she said.

"I don't know, Grace." His dad replied. He looked terrible. Almost as bad as the day they brought him out of the Underland. His sickness was gone, but sometimes the frailty came back.

Gregor had thought about this since he saw that bat on the science table. No, since he left the Underland.

"I don't belong here," he said. "But I don't belong down there either. Wherever I go, I cause suffering. Everything I do, I end up destroying something. Hell, I even 'killed' myself back in the arena." He met his parents' gazes. Even as the words formed in his mind, he knew he should never utter them. But they surfaced of their own accord. He had no control over the words that left his mouth next. Like he didn't know the pain they would cause.

"Maybe I should do it for real."

**As it happens, this chapter wasn't as good as the previous. But hey, you know how it is.**

**I think I have an idea of what to do next. I am still open for suggestions, though.**

**Hope you enjoyed. Run like the river, yo.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own neither the Underland Chronicles, nor any miscellaneous tidbits or references I may use in this piece.**

**Any and all feedback is appreciated.**

**All proceeds go to no one, because there aren't any.**

**Chapter**

**4**

Gregor massaged his temple, trying to rid himself of the headache that had cropped up a few days ago. How stupid could you get? He knew they did not have the money for this. Yet, here they were, waiting in the reception area for a shrink to call him in. Why had he made that crack about suicide? Idiot…

His mom kept staring at him, as if he would decide to off himself right then and there. He wish she would stop. Her gaze was beginning to make him fidgety. His dad just glared at the floor. He had not said much after that little episode. Barely moved, even. Lizzie was at home, recuperating from the shock. Boots looked around, on the brink of comprehension. Gregor still could not look at her.

He had apologized several times. But apologies were not what his family needed. What they needed was assurance that their brother and son would stay with them in the world of the living. Something he could not give them.

He took stock of the reception area. There was a lady sitting behind a desk, pecking out commands on a keyboard. Plants were sprinkled here and there. Another man with circles under his eyes sat in the corner. The placed smelled like… despair.

The door to the shrink's room opened, releasing a middle-aged woman whose eyes flitted around with uncertainty.

"Gregor?" called a voice from within.

Gregor pushed himself to his feet and made his way toward the room. He caught sight of his mother starting to stand. He met her gaze and shook his head.

"I'll be alright, mom," he said, faking a smile. She did not seem reassured.

Gregor expected to see one of those weird couches, like in the movies. He was disappointed. Instead, there was a desk, a few comfortable-looking chairs, and even more plants.

"Wouldn't you prefer to have your parents in here with you?" the shrink asked, showing concern.

Gregor scoffed. "What do I look like, a kid?"

The shrink furrowed his eyebrows. Apparently, that was exactly what Gregor looked like.

"Have a seat," he said, indicating one of the chairs. Gregor plopped down onto it. He rested his elbow on the armrest and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked at the shrink, he saw on the desk a plaque that stated a name. 'Dr. Mallard.'

Gregor surprised the shrink by being the first to speak: "So, Dr. Mallard," he began, "Explain something to me: Why'd my parents decide to bring me to an '_adult' _psychiatrist?"

Mallard was silent for a moment, then steeled his face. "They apparently thought that your troubles were too big for a counselor, or some such."

Gregor nodded. "Makes sense." He peered around the room. Nothing interesting stuck out to him. "So now what? You say words, and I pretend to listen?"

Another pause. "Pretty much." Mallard slumped a bit, obviously under a bit of stress himself. He sighed. "I can't pretend to understand your problems. Those scars on your ankles say that much, at least."

Gregor impulsively pulled his feet back. "You saw?" he asked, more passively than anything.

"Of course I did," Mallard replied, "they stick out like a sore thumb. Who are you trying to fool, anyway?" A little smile played on the shrink's lips. "No one had to drag you in here, so I think you want help. Even if you don't know it." He locked eyes with Gregor. "So, let's hear it. What's your plan?"

Gregor's eye twitched. Ripred. The big rat had said the exact same words so long ago. The headache attacked with full force. He clenched his eyes shut, riding out the storm. But it did not abate. The pain kept ramping up as more and more images of the Underland surfaced in his mind.

He felt his shoulder being shaken and the world snapped back into focus. Mallard was beside him, giving him a stern, uncertain look.

"Where did you go, Gregor?" he said.

Gregor was frozen for a moment, then his head collapsed into his hands as tears came to his eyes. He was not sad; he was incapable of it. He was just… angry.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Sorry, doc, but you're no help to me." Gregor fought his way to his feet, but fell right back into it as vertigo gripped his innards.

Mallard's hands helped steady Gregor's descent. "I think I am. And I think I would. I can't help you if you don't pipe up, Gregor."

A fresh wave of agony bathed Gregor's head. He had heard that before. Not long ago. The principal.

Wrong. It was all wrong. He should not be hearing these things! He should not be here with this shrink! He should not have gotten expelled! He should be a normal 14 year old…

Except he _wasn't _normal. He _did_ get expelled. He _was _here. And he _had _heard. He heard all he needed to hear. The only way this guy would know what his principal had said is if they were… _coordinating_ this!

That was it. They were plotting against him… They knew what he had done, where he had been, and they wanted him dead.

He stiffened. He could not show the shrink that he knew. He needed to stay alive. He needed to get out of here; get his family out of here. But how?

Gregor took on an aloof demeanor. "I'm fine. So is that all for today?"

Mallard seemed skeptical. "We've barely started," he said. "You still have another twenty-five minutes."

"That's fine." Gregor stood slowly. "I don't think you're what I need."

The shrink inspected the floor with a sort of dejected thoughtfulness. "Maybe you're right." The statement was not submissive, but contemplative. "Very well, Gregor. It was nice meeting you." His hand came up for a shake.

Gregor flinched, but quickly recollected his composure and took Mallard's offer.

On their way out of the reception area, Gregor's mother lagged behind. He peered back in time to see the shrink slip his mother a small piece of paper.

**Sorry for the wait, guys. I have this thing about not continuing after the third chapter of a story. Meh. Oh well, here's the fourth, ja? So I know where to go now. But, I'd still like to hear your suggestions. Fly you High… but not **_**too**_** high.**


End file.
